Moriarty
by LokisChampion
Summary: "Moriarty." He said in a sing song tone. What would he need me for? Obviously something I already know. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I appreciate you letting me drop by." I said, stepping to the front door of 221B, taking my leave.

"Oh, you're very welcome, dear. Sherlock enjoys your company, and your help too. You come by anytime. Goodbye now, stay warm." She said, opening the door with a smile as I stepped out into the street. The night was cold, silent, and frigid.

I stood in silence, taking in my surroundings. The silent streets, nobody moved on the sidewalks, no hails for cabs. I hugged my pea-coat tighter to myself as I walked down the steps and stopped, once again looking both ways.

"Peculiar." I said, beginning to make my way back to college. The dorm would be silent as well, what with my roommate out at work. Some quiet studying and maybe some peer tutoring, but unlikely at this hour. All the better to improve my already great skills.

Turning the corner, I was stopped by a man lying on the sidewalk, screaming in pain while he clutched his stomach.

"God, please help me! It hurts!" he screamed. I quickly ran to his aid, kneeling down just as my vision went black and I felt myself falling to the icy cement.

I woke to the sound of muffled voices and what appeared to be a pillowcase over my head, well warn judging by the coffee stains and makeup left behind, and the overall quality of the material. It felt flimsy on my skin, and it must be 20 years old, if not older. I tugged my hands, but they didn't move. The chain around my wrists must be over 50 years old, by the rust scraping my skin, the way it moves at my sudden movements and the smell. Old metal can be a very sensitive smell to an ordinary nose, but I'm well-tuned to it. I also jerked my feel and they were bound by the same chain on my ankles.

Just then, the pillowcase was jerked off my head, blinding my eyes to the sudden light in the room. I found the outline of 3 male figures, the long shoulders betrayed a woman's figure, and their height wasn't normal except for a model.

"It's her. Fetch him, will you?" One man said as another walked around me. He was big and burly, and stepped heavily, like the squeak of his sneakers was like screaming ants being crushed below him. The door opened behind me and boomed shut. Must be well worn steel, maybe stainless steel by the light echo or a humming if you will from the vibrations.

The two remaining men didn't move.

As my eyes finished adjusting, I noticed one of the men was the one playing 'injured' earlier. I chuckled to myself, gazing down at my knees before bringing my eyes back up, sweeping over his appearance. He is an abusive man, living off of alcohol by the hollowed out eyes, the colorless face, most likely fresh liver disease setting in.

The door opened again, I noticed when the humming returned, flooding my ears. The men standing in front of me exited the room, shutting the door with an exhausting boom sounding behind them, sealing me in.

But someone else was in here, with me. Playing.

All was silent. I listened.

Footsteps, creeping up behind me. In designer shoes, brand new. The clink of the heel is crisp, smooth, not worn. By smell, he wears expensive cologne, the most popular yet unidentified. He knows I'm tuned to it as well.

He now stands next to me, analyzing me.

He smells also of tea, a simple brew. Although the faint smell is nearly an afterthought. The sound of his clothing is used yet new. Maybe a pressed suit, grey with a white undershirt. Buttons setting off a rubbing sound at the tight cloth wrapped around it. The blazer is somewhat tailored at the cuffs and a new button is in the middle by the crying sound it makes.

Now in front of me. He gently grazes a newly cleaned hand on my shoulder before stepping away.

He has big, brown eyes, slightly slicked back and combed dark black hair, like the color of dark chocolate. His lips were fair and he is clean shaven, smirking at me.

"I knew it was you!" He said, his tone teasing while he yelled at me, bringing his hands up away from him in a stance of victory.

"I haven't had the pleasure." I say as he stared down at me, his hands falling to his sides.

"Oh." He said in a mocking ghostly tune. "Of course he wouldn't warn you. That's not how he plays." He smiled at me, eyes big and bright with a strange glitter to them.

"I gather you speak of Sherlock. Why?"

"That's the universal question, isn't it? Here's my question for you. Why would he pick someone like you!" He pointed at me quickly, laughing at the end, rubbing me the wrong way.

"Insult or threat?" I ask, holding his gaze.

"You know what I think? A young college sophomore, excelling in everything, honors student, social life abandoned, active reader of Watson's blog and breakthrough detective." He smirked and laughed through gritted teeth. "Practically a female Sherlock, and he spends his time teaching-no-employing you!"

"Stalker is what I read." I say with an equally icy smile.

"A young woman who is easily corrupt by an injured stranger."

"I wasn't raised an innocent bystander." I said, trying to keep my voice level.

"And that's the critical difference! Your downfall! SYMPATHY!" He screamed, laughing and smiling that wicked grin.

"Yet you claim to be so different? Separate?" I said as he stepped closer to me, slowly.

"He won't save you." He chuckled, shaking his head side to side. "He won't rescue you." He swallowed, looking me up and down. "But I would." He said in a heady tone, teasing but with an edge of serious.

"We protect ourselves. That's our deal."

"Why work for him if he doesn't protect you?" He hollered.

"I can protect myself!" I hollered back, beginning to feel the anger welling inside me.

"Aww, and yet, here you are." He said, making a sad face and sticking his bottom lip out. He was a few inches from my face now.

I spit at him, but he didn't move. Not even so much as flinch. He kept his eyes one me.

Those mad eyes.

"I don't do well without names." He said, that smile returning to his lips as he straightened up, walking away from me.

"I need a guarantee you'll deliver." I said. "Last name only."

"You first." He sang. He had walked around to my back and leaned down to my ear. I could feel his breath on my neck.

"Smith."

"Moriarty." He sang in a creepy, sing song tone. I could practically hear his smile tugging his lips.

"Hm." He chuckled in my ear. "I did some reports on you in high school."

"Research paper, DNA tests, school magazine article, a case to teach young detectives and finally a profile. A personal profile, completely spot on, granting you a column in the papers and the attention of Sherlock!" He spoke faster and faster until he was screaming at the end, staring at me with shockingly big, scary eyes.

"You've captured me to access high school documentation?"

"Which are safe with me. I stole you for another reason." He said slowly.

I sat and watched him. He stood straight in front of me, hands clasped at his waist, smiling. He was trying to hold himself back, by the strain of his back.

His eyes never left mine.

"What reason?" I asked.

Moriarty let out an eerie laugh, shaking his head and shoulders. The grin stayed on his lips. "I'm sure you can figure it out without a word from me. Talk it out, please!" He yelled, bending down towards me, hands clasped behind his back.

I took a deep breath and exhaled through my nose, clenching my jaw.

"You couldn't want or need me for personal reasons. You don't need my knowledge. Nothing is important to you at home or in my dorm; I'm sensing a craving for someplace I go after school. The twitch in your fingers betrays you Moriarty. Yet when you told me your name, it rang a bell but not from any of my work. You're twitching eye represents I've struck a nerve, hit highly on the answer in which I have known this whole time. State the question on your mind right now." I said, as he now leaned down toward me.

He chuckled, placing his hands on my chained wrists, grinning wickedly. "Can you tell me what this meeting is?"

"Not an interrogation, not a hostage. You want my cooperation, which means you will release me later for more comfortable chambers after your done picking my brain."

His smile brightened. "Excellent!" He spoke loudly, bringing a hand up to my cheek. "Why didn't I steal you earlier? I could've used you. Actually, I still can."

"You're nothing but an old fashioned, out of date villain. I won't cooperate, so don't ask."

He made another sad face. "Aww, but an old fashioned villain has better tricks up his sleeve."

"You don't have my family hostage, you can't get to them. My roommate is at work surrounded by witnesses, you can't get away with that. You can't harm me, which would corrupt our deal for cooperation, what could you have up your sleeve? Nothing that makes logical sense." I said, feeling his breath on my cheek.

"I do have one trick. What does every single member of your family have in common?" he breathed, and I could feel his composure once again slipping.

It hit me faster than a speeding bullet.

"You poisoned their medication."

Moriarty smiled as he reached into his pocket, pulling out an unwrapped piece of gum. "Bravo!" He yelled, tapping the gum on the tip of my nose before popping it into his mouth. "Anything else!" He was now standing away from me, straight and twiddling his thumbs.

"If I don't help, you send out the pills with a lethal combination that would kill my family in hours with one dose."

"That's my girl! Perfect for my job! Now," he said, kneeling before me, smiling with big eyes. "What's your answer?"

We stared into our eyes, sharing silence as I contemplated my answer. No way out, not without my family killed at my ignorance. I can't lose them, I couldn't live with myself if I did.

Moriarty began humming a hauntingly familiar tune.

"Deal." I said, clenching my hands into fists under the chains.

Moriarty smiled, stood and kissed my forehead before walking behind me, opening the closing the steel door behind him with a boom.

"I'm sorry, Mom." I said, feeling myself shake and tremble as my vision blurred with wetness. "I can't save you this time."


	2. Chapter 2

I sat in the chair chained for God knows how long when I finally heard the door open behind me. The man was big, but that wouldn't stop me.

I closed my eyes and listened.

His clothes are freshly washed and their soft crackling indicates he was just completed an hour long workout. Also judging by the smell, he smells fresh but a hint of smoke sits around him, a cigarette no less.

I open my eyes and watch.

He walks with a small limp, indicating a weak leg, his shoulder twitches, showcasing a painful injury. His neck is thick with muscles except for his Adam's apple, giving me my perfect target to strike. I should avoid his left knee, right fist and head; he has made fatal blows with them judging by the scarring.

He produces a key from his pocket, leans down and unlocks the chain on my left wrist, then the right.

I make no moves; I keep my eyes on him.

He now kneels, unlocking my ankles. He is working on my right foot now when I clear my throat. He stops and looks up at me.

Showtime.

Still locking my eyes to his, I quickly lift my knee and it makes contact with his Adam's apple. He flails backward in a choking, gasping heap. Clutching his neck, I stand, bringing the chains with me and hogtying him faster than my personal best.

I notice the gun in his holster and take it, arming myself.

I exit the room and dash through the empty corridors. I reach what must be the main building because I round the corner and shots fire, missing me by inches as I back around the corner again, taking shelter.

Inhaling, I peek out from the corner and shoot every gunman in the head. Once each, a perfect shot.

Again, I continue on and eliminate all targets. Except for one problem.

An idiotic problem.

I'm out of bullets.

Deciding to take my chances, I toss the gun and continue sticking to the shadows and moving silently through the clotted hallways. It was easier than I had anticipated.

I walked into a room when 3 shots fired in front of me, colliding with the drywall, shattering it. Screaming, I shield my face as the debris stops falling.

I looked in the direction of the shots.

Moriarty stood, holding a gun, which he threw to the ground with a loud bump on the hard wood floors. He now held a button. A big, red, menacing button which his thumb was poised carefully at the ready.

"My dear child, you can't win! It's impossible! You can never win my game!" He hollered, laughing and smiling maniacally.

I turned to run out the door, but it closed with a slam and locked from the outside.

I stopped, stiffening when I heard him laughing. "How shall I get the point across? Hm? HOW!"

I turned to face him and he stood, staring at me. "If you don't cooperate, I'll kill your family with a push of this button." Moriarty spoke slowly, but his volume increased. "And if you don't care about them, I'll kill Sherlock!"

I stared at him, trying to catch my breath. I didn't realize I was holding it. He smiled and cocked his head to the side, slowly sticking the button in his pocket.

"Or need I remind you of the true horror?" He whispered.

And then I heard it.

The tune, singing loudly in a music box.

It's close.

"Turn it off." I said, my feelings all welling up at once.

"Oh!" He laughed loudly. "Now you remember! Tell me what's screaming in your head! Now!"

"You!" I screamed, feeling the tears wetting my cheeks.

He smirked at me.

I felt myself crumbling, but I needed to scream at him.

"You were everywhere. I knew I remembered your face somewhere! You followed me and my parents, by middle school I had your license plate memorized as you drove away. And that music!"

"Where do you remember the music, dear?" He said, watching me intently.

"You took me. I can't remember exactly but you took me away for a night. A ride in your car. You played that damn music the whole time! It's haunted me every night, all night. It reminds me of the scared girl I was and I can't shut it out, no matter how hard I try."

I was speaking quietly now, through sobs. I was shaking as my knees gave out on me, and I slumped to the floor, furiously whipping away the tears on my face.

His cologne filled my nose and his footsteps echoed in my ears. I looked at the floor and saw his feet before me and I felt his hand under my chin while he lifted my face to look at him.

He bent down, staring at me. "I only did it to protect you."

I watched him as he touched my cheek, but I didn't move. He smirked just before he kissed my forehead. A memory flashed before my eyes and I turned my head away from his lips. I heard him exhale, feeling his breath on my face.

"Snake." I whispered and I could hear the manic smile pulling his lips.

I felt his fist in my hair as I was jerked back to see his face. I screamed.

Whether it was fear or pain was unclear.

"Do I still need to remind you?" his tone was loud and strong. He was holding the button again, ready to push. "One more incident and your family dies! Is that what you want? To murder your own family?!" he screamed.

"No! Please, I'll cooperate! Just don't kill them! They don't deserve it!"

I screamed through sobs and we both breathed hard, sucking air back into our lungs as he put the button back into his pocket.

"Good girl." Moriarty whispered, releasing my hair and he walked around me and out the door.

In the faint quiet, the music box still sang its haunting song in a hidden shadow.


	3. Chapter 3

I was introduced to my chambers that evening. Looking in the dresser was all his clothes. Sighing, I took a black V-neck and black spandex shorts to take a shower.

After I dried off and changed, I sat on the couch and listened.

I heard the building grow quiet. After about an hour of silence, I pulled out my phone, turned on the flashlight and creped to the door.

I couldn't help it.

I had to look around.

Opening the door, I stuck my ear to the opening and listened.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I stepped into the hallway and decided to walk down to the left. The hallways were long, meaning this must be a serious business building. I also noticed every door was written upon with a black sharpie. A name on every door.

I stopped at the corner before continuing on.

After walking about 7 doors down, I saw one reading 'Moriarty'.

Jackpot.

I turned off the flashlight, placed my ear to the door and listened.

No movement, no hushed voices.

I tried the doorknob. It twisted en my grasp and I slowly entered the room. I looked around to see it was surprisingly modern with a fireplace harboring a big, warm, crackling ball of fire. To the right of the fireplace was a desk, completely organized with files carefully arranged away in its correct spot and a bulletin board above it, neatly covered in pictures.

I walked briskly to the desk and furiously scanned the files.

Nothing with my name.

I opened the drawers, searched the file cabinets, and under the desk. I pulled out an unlabeled box and ripped it open, revealing more files. Low and behold, my name read on the first file. Greedily, I took it out and opened it on the desktop.

Oh God, he has everything. Transcripts, college applications, scholarships, my senior portfolio as well as my family medical history and my greatest fears.

Even the tape holding my interview with the police when I was found.

Looking up, I was shocked at what was on the bulletin board.

Me.

Hundreds of pictures of me.

In the café, at the mall, with my parents. My brother and I shopping for Christmas last year, at the gym, at fundraisers at the college campus. Even some of me studying at my desk in my dorm with my roommate sleeping.

I couldn't take my eyes off these photos. It hit me, now, what was happening here.

I was so engrossed in my search that I didn't hear the classical music being played in the CD player, or the door open.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I jumped and spun around. Moriarty was leaning against the fireplace. He wore a V-neck and jeans. By their condition, they must be well liked clothes given that they have been taken care of for a long amount of time. Perfectly clean, no wrinkles in sight. He smelled like soap, his hair was still perfectly slicked back and he smiled at me, analyzing me as well.

I walked toward him and stopped on the other side of the fireplace.

"I'm not afraid of you." I said as he chuckled.

"You're doing a marvelous job with that, dear." He said, keeping his eyes on me.

"I think you're hiding something." I said. He exhaled, clenching his jaw.

"Why would I have anything to hide? What in the world could I possibly have to hide!" He said, plastering a smile on his face.

I didn't say anything. I waited.

"Oh, I suppose you already know? Then tell me what I'm hiding."

I watched him watch me.

"Showtime, darling. Now!" He hollered.

"Judging by your recently close proximity to me, shows you enjoy my company. You're increasing heart rate is making you warm, creating a flush on the back of your neck. How your eyes repeatedly graze over me, you are assessing my looks or stature, but either is good for you. Your palms are becoming clammy, and you're twitching, possibly due to your rapidly increasing heartbeat, I can practically hear it. The way you never really dress down, you still dress it up, keeping the impression in your head that you are impressing me, which is slightly true. The way you lick your lips indicates you daydream of 'stealing a kiss' from someone. To bring it into simple terms, you have a crush."

He stared at me for a few moments in silence before he spoke again. "And who would that crush be?"

"The woman decorating this office on that board. Standing before you. Moriarty, you have a crush on me. You have for a while now, but do you choose to confront it?"

"What kind of question is that?" He asks, eyes still on me.

"A universal question, so it would seem." I said, before I turned around and walked out the door, leaving the file exposed on his desk.

I then ran to my door, opening it and closing it behind me, locking it quickly.

The adrenaline running through my veins doesn't calm down until I fall into bed, closing my eyes and taking some deep breaths as sleep took me.


	4. Chapter 4

I sat at my computer, checking my email.

My words at him rippled through my head.

Distracting, really. Pestering.

I begin to focus on the screen before me when I heard the door open. The sound of his footsteps spoke for themselves. I heard him drop something on the bed before he stepped closer. Now his hands were on my shoulders and I stopped typing.

"You're first job is here!" He said, the enthusiasm dripping from his tone.

"What would that be?"

He leaned down and whispered in my ear while he traced a finger down my neck. I didn't move.

"Stage your abduction." He whispered. "Here's the plan."

About an hour and a half later, I stood on the steps of 221b, knocking gently.

Mrs. Hudson opened the door with a great smile on her face, John and Sherlock stood behind her.

I suddenly felt self-conscious in my silver halter top, knee length skin tight dress and heels. Instinctively I hid behind my hair.

"Hello dear. Ready for the gala?" Mrs. Hudson asked as John and Sherlock walked beside me to the sidewalk, hailing a cab.

"Yes, I wouldn't miss it for the world. Now you have a good night." I said, turning to see John holding open a door, Sherlock was already inside, watching me.

"Oh, thank you. Go on now, have fun." Mrs. Hudson said, just before she closed the door. I exhaled, turning and walking to the cab.

The ride was quiet, awkward and a little stressful.

A few moments later, and with a few detours by Sherlock, we arrived at the museum. As we walked up the stone steps, my feeling a little tipsy in my new shoes that I knew not how to walk in, I felt relaxed when we were inside, surrounded by the art.

That was familiar. It was safe.

Sherlock had gone somewhere while John stayed with me. Gazing and talking about various sculptures, paintings and photographs, I felt completely comfortable around John. He looked good in his suit, which I could tell was lightly used, most likely stuffed in the back of his closet until its calling.

I seized this opportunity.

"John, I need to tell you something. It's imperative you heed my words."

John nodded, turning to face me.

"You and Sherlock need to leave. Now."

"What? That's nonsense."

"Please, you have to listen to me. Just go-

2 shots echoed through the museum when we were instantly surrounded by screams. I knelt to my knees and shielded my head with my arms as people began to run in all directions. I was constantly bumped around, nearly falling on my face in these damn shoes. John got a hold of my hand and tried to tug me towards the exit through the crowd of panicked people.

"Don't mind me! Find Sherlock!" I yelled.

John stopped and looked back at me. "No! You're coming with me!"

"John, please!" I hollered, but he didn't listen. He proceeded to tug me farther towards the exit when I felt a hand at the base of my neck, balled into my hair.

I cringed, flinging my hands back to hold his wrist at the pain propelling my backwards into him, lightly while I tried to regain my footing.

"Look what I found!" Moriarty screamed, and I closed my eyes.

People were still bumping into us when John spoke. "Let her go! You don't need to do this!" I opened my eyes and saw he had his hands up, but his eyes on the gun pointed at him in Moriarty's hand.

Then I saw Sherlock fighting through the crowd, settling behind John, staring at me.

"Oh but I do!" Moriarty moved the gun to Sherlock. "Sherlock, how nice to see you!"

I met Sherlock's eyes, pleading him to not speak, and he obeyed.

Like he could hear me.

I felt the tip of the gun on my temple, the metal warm and I whimpered at the thought of my brains blown out everywhere. My hands tightened around his wrist, the pain biting back at me.

"If you follow us, she dies!" Moriarty screamed as we walked backwards, me slowly stumbling into his feet.

We left the building, he blindfolded me before we got in the car, and we drove back to where we all reside. The ride was quiet, and I wrapped my arms around myself, my shy nature killing me, but then the thought that Moriarty picked this out for me came back, and I lowered my arms.

"You look great, by the way." He said beside me, and I felt him run his hand up my arm before we resumed our silent ride.

A while later, my blindfold was removed to walk to my room accompanied by a guard. He shut me into my room; the first thing to be taken off was the shoes. I practically kicked them across the room before I walked into the bathroom to remove some of the makeup clogging my face.

My door opened and I chose to ignore it. Looking into the mirror, I saw him leaning against the door frame, smiling and clapping loudly.

"Bravo! Splendid show!" He said, hands falling to his sides. "You're a great actress, even I fell for that."

"Grand." I said as I washed my hands.

Moriarty didn't move. Instead, I drank in his appearance.

Everything involving his head was perfect as he smiled at me. He had only taken off his blazer, showcasing his perfect white button up shirt, but two top buttons were undone. The new, expensive grey suit pants looked well made, perfectly tailored to his body and his dress shoes shined in the ugly bathroom light.

He was still staring when I turned to face him, drying my hands on a towel. "What?" I asked quietly.

"You were right about last night." He said, then broke into a fit of loud laughter. "You're always right! I knew I could count on you!"

"To always be correct?"

"Perfect! Well said." He was smiling, but something changed inside me, I couldn't quite place it.

"Now." He said. "Tomorrow, I've got another job for you."


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, I dialed Mrs. Hudson's number and waited while it rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs. Hudson."

"Oh, hello dear! Are you alright? Sherlock told me everything."

"See, here's the thing." I said. "Moriarty is allowing me to have one item of choice and I have something that I left there. The problem is I can't run into Sherlock. Is he there now?" I said, nervous of how to weave a withstanding web.

"He's not. You come and get it, alright? See you soon, dear."

"Bye, Mrs. Hudson." I said, hanging up.

A few moments later, I was blindfolded and in the car driving to 221b.

"Take this, plug it into the computer and everything's ours." Moriarty said. I could feel how close we were and it made me nervous, but that quickly faded when he placed a small flash drive into my hands.

"What about Mrs. Hudson?" I asked and he took off the blindfold. I took in my surroundings, calculating that we were about a block away from the flat.

"You may mingle, but if Sherlock is coming, I will text you."

"Then what?"

"Run." Moriarty said, smirking at me. "Download everything."

I nodded as we pulled to the curb. I looked to the door through the glass, then back at him.

"Break a leg, sweets." He said, giving me a smooch through the air when I opened the door and walked up the steps to the door. My feet felt so much better in these old sneakers than those heels, which I am sure I will never wear again. I knocked gently as I smiled to myself.

The door opened as if she was standing by it waiting. I fingered the flash drive in my pocket.

"My dear, come here!" Mrs. Hudson said, enveloping me in a big hug, tight and long as I felt the tension leave her small body.

"It's nice to see you too." I said as he pulled away and let me inside.

"I can stay out of your way."

"Actually, I have been craving a cup of your tea, Mrs. Hudson." I said as we made our way up the stairs and into the flat, she departed to the kitchen.

"Right away!" she said.

"Thank you." I said, wasting no time. I sat at the desk in front of the laptop.

I taped the ENTER key and the screen came to life, asking for a password. Knowing it by heart, I let my fingers fly over the keyboard. I'm in.

Taking the flash drive from my pocket, I plugged it into the computer. A few seconds later, an ask box appeared.

DOWNLOAD ALL DOCUMENTS ON DEVICE? CODE NEEDED TO PROCEED:

I punched in the code Moriarty spoke to me earlier and pressed ENTER.

BEGINNING DOWNLOAD.

The box minimized and I waited. Mrs. Hudson set the tray down beside me and I brought the cup into my hands, warming them.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I think that was two seconds better than your personal best."

"Oh, you're so sweet, dear. I hope it satisfies your craving."

"Completely." I said, taking a sip before I continued. "Mrs. Hudson, please don't tell the boys I was here today."

She cocked her head to one side, and I continued.

"They can't know."

"Alright, dear. I promise." She smiled as we emptied our cups of tea, exchanging small talk and smiles.

The computer beeped just as Mrs. Hudson was walking to the kitchen with the dishes. I turned my attention to the ask box on the screen.

DOWNLOAD COMPLETE. PLEASE REMOVE FLASH DRIVE.

I removed it, placing it in my pocket before closing the laptop. Standing, I walked to the stairs, waiting for Mrs. Hudson. I looked around the room, memorizing it since this may be the last time I see it.

Also trying to block out the betrayal I was inflicting.

"I suppose you have to leave now?" She said, standing beside me.

Her smile made me melt and I felt a tear falling down my cheek.

"Oh, honey." She said, taking me in her arms once again for a long, strong embrace as she spoke in my ear. "I know you. You're smart and I know your strong enough to overcome this. You'll see, alright? You can do it."

"Thank you." I said as she released me with a reassuring smile, walking down the steps to the front door. She opened it and I walked down the steps to the car. I turned back to her once I had the door open.

"Be safe, Mrs. Hudson."

"You too, dear." She said as I sat into the car, closing the door as we pulled away from the flat. Mrs. Hudson waved us off, and I waved back. When we were out of sight, Moriarty blindfolded me again.

"What do you need these for?"

"All in good time dear!"

"Please don't make me hurt Sherlock."

I heard him laugh a little. "I'm not one for getting my hands dirty. Besides, all good things to those who wait."

I could once again hear his smile screaming on his face and I couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching me.


	6. Chapter 6

As we sat together at the computer, combing through the flash drive, Moriarty blacked out the monitor and turned toward me.

"I want you to come with me to a clandestine assignation. It's where all criminals meet once a year to discuss our success. I want you to be my hook."

I said nothing, only staring.

He was patient with me as I thought it through.

"Will I be harmed?"

"Not possible." He said, shaking his head.

"How so?"

"Blue tooth connection, constant contact and knowledge of our whereabouts. Nothing to worry about, my dear." He smiled now.

"Wedges, no heels."

"Deal." He said quietly, standing up and walking to his closet. He produced a deep, crimson red dress, about knee length and the sleeves were up around my shoulders. He set it on the bed, walked out the door and closed it behind him without another word.

I sighed and changed into it, fitting like a glove. I found some black wedges and hardly put any make up on, wanting a natural look. I was finishing straightening my hair when I heard the door open.

I walked to the couch and forced myself not to stare.

The suit was absolutely perfect. It fit, giving nothing away. The black fabric looked exquisite to his skin tone. Missing a tie, it gave him a look of edge countered with my dress. His hair was perfect and his eyes mesmerized me. he analyzed me before he stepped forward with two small, black blue tooth in his hands, a blue circle shinning on it indicating that they were on.

He gave me one while putting his own on his ear. "These will keep us in constant contact. I can hear all conversations that you have, but nobody will hear our words."

I nodded and put my own on and he watched, like I was the most fascinating thing in the room.

"Are we ready?" Moriarty asked, extending his arm, which I took.

"I believe so." I said as we strolled through the building and to the car.

Something struck me in that moment.

No blindfold.

About an hour later, we reached an underground subway station, but it didn't house one.

Stepping through some fancy doors, I had to shut off my analyzing. It was too much all at once. The amount of people was overwhelming, and they all looked at us at the same time.

One man and woman approached us first; all smiles, easing my tension by millimeters. I was only vaguely aware that Moriarty was now holding my hand.

"Moriarty." The man said, extending his hand, which Moriarty shook.

"Connell." Moriarty said as Connell looked to me, seeming to size me up.

"My, where did you snatch her?" Connell said, and I edged closer to Moriarty when I felt his arm wrap around my waist softly.

"I take the finest, Connell. Shall she prove it?"

"Please." Connell said, looking to me.

I exhaled. Here we go.

"You are a man in his late thirties, currently suffering through your midlife crisis. This is true by the cuts and scars on your knuckles, indicating lots of hits and neglect. Your receding hairline indicates stress or you're pulling it out yourself, as a result of the late loss of your father. At this loss, you also divorced your wife, forfeit your children and now you live with this much younger woman beside you. This woman is a replacement for your wife, what I can tell they are very similar in looks and personality. By the way she dresses, you knew her before your divorce, perhaps an affair which could be another reason you divorced, or it was unknown and now you live in pure paradise. She dresses to impress you, Mr. Connell, perhaps to motivate later actions in the bedroom."

I could feel Moriarty shaking with silent laughter, and I smirked as Connell and the woman beside him cleared their throats and looked everywhere but at each-other.

"Spot on, dear. Please enjoy yourselves." Connell said, stepping to the side as Moriarty led me into the crowd of people.

I could hear the soft music playing over the speakers, classical music as some people danced, others mingled.

"Fine job, dear. You never disappoint me." He whispered in my ear as we walked towards another group of people. "Please do that again if anyone asks."

"Yes sir." I said, and we stopped in front of a woman with long blonde hair, wearing a long, blue gown with a white fur shawl, a man standing beside her wearing a brown suit and he had shaggy black hair.

"Moriarty, pleasure seeing you here." The woman said, extending her hand.

The man met my eyes, but I couldn't rip away.

"And who is this lovely creature?" he asked, his voice husky as he stared into me.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kronek, this is my date. Call her Smith." Moriarty said, returning his hand to my waist. "Only the finest."

"She's a lamb." Mrs. Kronek scoffed.

"Show off your skills. Prove my ignorant wife wrong."

"Shane." Mrs. Kronek said, but Mr. Kronek lifted a hand to silence her, and she obeyed, turning her gaze to me.

I looked to Moriarty once more, and he nodded.

"You live a life of riches, yet you wallow in misery together. There is no love in the relationship, so you both exercise adultery regularly. Mrs. Kronek, your scent betrays you, your deodorant is a man's, not your husbands. I can sniff him out in this room if I chose to, but I will leave that to you. You're jewels have been misplaced, either lost or broken, we will never know, but it must be because of your shred of hatred at your husband. Don't think murder will solve your problems, since I can prove it was you, you have plenty of motive."

She scowled and walked away towards some friends of hers no doubt. I turned my gaze to Mr. Kronek, who smiled.

"You have not slept with any other women, but you frequent the bars and clubs to just look. Smart to not touch. The twitch in your hands indicate you have found someone you enjoy but you dare not touch, since it's true that you have some small slice of love for your wife, yet you show it through arguments at midnight, but you would never lay a finger on her. You take good care of yourself in the meantime, not gambling your money away like she does. You don't move with a divorce because you don't want to lose everything to a woman who is greedy and ungrateful. You have many sleepless nights thinking about what life would be like with the right woman who cares. You're suit hangs on your frame, indicating you've lost some weight, either stress or anger, impulsive spurts of energy are not good for a man like you, who has the potential to be great under the correct circumstances."

Mr. Kronek stared, smirking. I added this sentence before Moriarty pulled me away.

"You know your moves, use them."

Moriarty was again stopped by a woman in her forties, who smiles at me. "Moriarty, some friends of mine want to speak with Smith. May I take her for a few moments?"

"Yes." Moriarty lifted my hand to his lips, kissing it gently before I was taken by the woman to a group of them at a table.

"Name?" I asked, and she looked at me.

"Last name? Shorna." She smiled as we stopped in front of the women at the table.

"Hey." One woman said, staring at me like a giddy schoolgirl. "Great compromise of Mr. Connell and Mr. and Mrs. Kronek. You've got guts, hon."

"Oh, thank you madam." I said.

"Oh, call me Nora." The woman said, she had long, black hair and a pale complexion. She wore a short purple dress and a single amulet, green. Her hands were gloved in black leather and she wore black heels.

I turned to the other woman standing next to her. "Susan, dear." She had a pixie cut, brown hair, tanned skin and a long, black dress.

"Mary." The final one said, taking in her ginger locks and pale skin tone. She wore an aquamarine dress, elegant yet youthful.

"Still Smith, then?" Shorna asked, looking at me.

"Yes. It's always what I've gone by." I said, feeling myself relax.

"How did Moriarty find you?" Nora asked.

I completely forgot about the blue tooth in my ear,

"Well, we met a long time ago, actually. We ran into each other on my way back to my dorm."

"You're in college?" Mary asked, quickly followed by Susan.

"She's just a baby!"

We all shared some laughs when a waiter came by with a tray of wine. Everyone took one, but I declined with a smile.

"What's he like?" Nora asked.

"Is he mysterious?" Mary asked.

"Oh, yes. He is very mysterious." I said, smiling at the girls giggling.

"Do you like him?" Susan asked.

"Well." I said, contemplating how to come around this. "It's complicated."

They all stared at me, waiting, and I laughed before I continued.

"He has a mysterious air to him that I can't seem to see through. He can be sweet when he wants to be, caring and patient. He's handsome, too. His voice is perfect and he can wear anything, stopping my heart at his appearance, much like tonight. He's hypnotizing, intoxicating and ever so dark. That dark shroud is the final thing that I can't seem to penetrate. I would love to break it one day, see him completely."

I snapped back to reality as they started giggling. "What?" I asked, composing myself again.

"You like him, honey." Susan said, smiling.

"No I don't." I said.

"Yes you do!" Mary and Nora said at the same time, laughing lightly afterwards.

"I do not!" I said, but laughter escaped me too, and we all fell apart.

"Hon, you don't go on about a man like that if you don't love him." Susan said.

I felt the blush creep up my face, then I hid behind my hair.

The women all looked behind me when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I sniffed the air around me and spoke. "Mr. Kronek. May I help you?" I turned to him and he smiled.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but may I borrow you?" he asked, and the women all smiled and nodded. He extended his hand and I took it tentatively, remembering that I can't be harmed.

He walked me to the center of the room and swept me into a waltz. I felt self-conscious, but fought through it when he spoke.

"How can you possibly know that about me just by looking?" he asked, his breath on my forehead.

"A special skill." I said, looking up at him.

"Incredible." He said. "Truly remarkable."

"I sense I was correct by your stiff back?"

He nodded, and I smiled.

"So who's the woman?" I asked.

"You should know that."

"Oh, I do."

"You're testing me?"

"Can't be too careful." I said, knowing the woman was me.

"Smart woman. All the more desirable."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kronek, but I have to interrupt you." I heard Moriarty behind me, and I stopped when his hand was on my shoulder, pulling me out of his arms and into his.

When Mr. Kronek departed, Moriarty whispered in my ear. "How about we depart?"

I nodded and he laced his fingers through mine as we walked out the door and back to the car. When we were moving, I spoke up.

"Thanks for the rescue."

He said nothing but tapped the blue tooth. I remembered what I had said that night, and the embarrassment blinded me. I turned away quickly, wanting to disappear, which I did when we got back home. I ran to my chambers and locked myself in.


	7. Chapter 7

For the rest of the night, I hadn't heard or seen him.

I had just gotten out of the shower, my hair still wet. I wore one of his red V-necks and black spandex shorts. I looked at the clock, reading 11:30 P.M.

I tried to keep myself busy. Anything could have worked, going through the flash drive, getting on my email, surfing the web for nothing in particular, even listening to the radio as I lie on the bed.

12:00 P.M.

Letting my head fall back into the pillows, I gazed at the ceiling, thinking of what Moriarty heard me say earlier. Being the idiot I am, I opened my big mouth and said those words, the words of someone in love. I should know better.

Or at least I damn well thought I did.

I sat up slowly.

I have to see him.

Standing up, I walked to the door and stepped into the hallway, making my way to his door. My bare feet hit the cold floor silently, I tried to slow my breathing, trying to explain reason to my raging hormone levels, but it wasn't working in the least.

I exhaled when I reached the corner, and I noticed something wrong right away.

His door was cracked. Just a little, but enough to be irregular.

No forced entry, nothing broken, chipped, scratched. I couldn't hear anything from inside that raised any red flags; I couldn't hear anything except his shallow breathing. I opened the door with my shoulder, and stepped inside. Looking around, everything was fine, until I reached his desk.

He was hunched over a laptop, typing furiously. The speed of it made my own fingers ach, and I then found a reflective surface lying on the ground in a heap of jagged edges. Still walking silently, I approached the shards, and realized they were broken from the mirror hanging on the wall. It was now black and empty of the mirror aspect; it now was on the ground. I analyzed the pieces, and noticed one piece was missing.

He still hadn't seen or heard me. He didn't move.

I slowly walked up behind him, touching his shoulder. He closed the laptop with alarming speed that I flinched, but then he turned to me.

He was wearing a white V-neck and jeans, both perfect, same with his face and hair. Nothing looked disheveled, out of place. However, two things caught my eye at once.

His hands.

The knuckles of his right hand were scratched and bloody, along with a small, but deep scrape just above his collarbone, at least a good inch in length. In his left hand, a piece of glass with blood on the tip of it. Instinctively, I ripped it out of his hand, throwing it towards the heap of the rest.

"Now what are you doing in here?" he asked as I took his wrist, guiding him to the couch.

"Hang on." I said, walking to the kitchen, but finding nothing involving a first aid kit like my room, but instead I walked to the hall closet.

Bingo.

"Who said you could come in here while I'm working!" he hollered as I rounded the corner and sat in front of him, putting the first aid box on the coffee table.

"I wanted to see you!" I said, and he stopped, staring. I got a cotton ball wet with some rubbing alcohol and took his hand in mine, all the blood making me nervous.

I gently rubbed at the blood and it came off easily enough, revealing tiny scratches, not big gashes like I feared. I exhaled as I cleaned off his hand.

"What are you really doing here?" he asked.

"Now, I'm helping you. Is no answer acceptable?"

"I don't need help."

"Then explain this!" I said, lifting his hand, bringing my eyes to his. He smirked at me and I returned to his hand. I took a Q-tip from the box, putting some Neosporin on it and gently applying it to the cuts.

"I was enveloped in my work, had a bad encounter. I eased it by hitting something."

"And that was a breakable object?" I asked, moving to some of the smaller cuts before looking up at him quickly before returning my gaze to his hand.

He sighed. "Why would it not be one?"

"Apparently I don't understand your mindset for work." I said.

"No you don't!" he hollered, making me jump.

He was staring at me now with that grin on his face again. I stopped with his hand and looked at his chest, where the small hole was.

"What about this one?" I asked, touching it lightly with my fingers, getting another cotton ball wet.

"An itch I can't scratch." He smiled, and I was increasingly aware of the space disappearing between us. "Pain helps me work."

I didn't respond to his comment, and I felt him breathing underneath my fingers, his chest rising and falling calmly. Taking another Q-tip and Neosporin, I got it into the injury easily. It looks a little deeper than it actually is.

"You shouldn't fuss about me so much." he said and I smiled, chuckling as I got some gauze and medical tape. I placed a small square over the hole and taped it to his skin.

"I am. I hope that's not too inconvenient." I said, leaning back to look at his face, but there still wasn't much space between us.

"I never said that." He said, smiling at me.

"Don't say things I can take the wrong way." I said, and he chuckled.

He swallowed, placing a hand in some strands of my hair, rubbing them through his fingertips gently.

I placed my hand on his neck when I spoke. "What were you getting so worked up about?"

He traced a hand down my jaw, to my chin, where his fingers lingered. "You."

"You mean my next job?" I asked.

"No." he said quietly. "You."

"Why would it be me?"

"You know why." He said, bringing his other hand to my waist, resting it there as he fingered the hem of my shirt. I traced the V of his shirt, running my fingers along it and his warm chest beneath. "You tell me." He said.

"You mean it wasn't true?"

"Don't be funny with me, I know it was true. You don't have to hide it."

I stared at him, suddenly feeling the warmth inside me spreading. He smiled at me, as if knowing, and I felt myself leaning slowly forward, toward him.

"You've told me my feelings, now why won't you tell me yours?" he whispered, watching my eyes.

When I didn't speak, he grinned again.

"Oh." He laughed. "You're toying with me now." He said.

"I'm not toying."

"You're stalling." He said, letting his fingers fall from my chin to slowly run down my neck. "Why delay the inevitable?"

I could feel myself give, and just as I leaned in a little more, I felt his breath on my lips. It was warm, small spurts of air.

A beep sounded on the laptop and we both stopped moving.

"Sorry darling." He said, with a wink as he stood up. "Duty calls. I have your next assignment, too."

I sat on his couch, watching him cross the room to the laptop, and when he was turned away from me, I leaned into the couch, trying to calm my thoughts and cool down.

I could still feel his touch.

I couldn't tell if I hated it or liked it.


	8. Chapter 8

Once again I stood on the steps, knocking on 221b.

Mrs. Hudson opened the door and let me inside, a small nod exchanged. "One more look around, dear? Some tea?"

"No tea this time. Thank you though." I said, making my way up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson didn't follow.

I walked to the bookshelf in the corner, pulling up a chair and stood on it. Once I could reach the top shelf, I took out the small camera and laid it out on my palm, willing myself not to crush it in my fist.

I have to do this, no matter how much I don't want to.

Moving some books out of my way with my free hand, I took the camera and hooked it carefully into the front corner of the wood, shaking it gently to ensure its grip. I moved my fingers to the back of it until I felt the button and pushed it.

Stepping off the chair and replacing it to its original spot, I waited quietly, again memorizing every detail.

All the while resenting myself.

Feeling my phone vibrate, I pulled it out and viewed the text:

GOOD TO GO.

Phone clutched in my hand, I walked down the stairs and out the door, trying to ignore Mrs. Hudson rambling to someone on the phone. Heated agreement, I think.

I walked to the car, pulling the door open before sitting inside beside him, who greeted me with a smile.

"Smashing job!" he said as we began our drive back. "Wonderful, really."

I only gazed out the window.

Self-loathing will eat me alive.

Back in my room, I typed a document of what I felt was happening to me. After I read it once, I highlighted it and pressed DELETE when I heard the door open.

I opened the tab to my email, counting the seconds until I felt his hands on my shoulders.

"You haven't spoken to me." he said, gently massaging my shoulders. I sighed and dropped my face into my hands.

"I'm unhappy with myself." I said, leaning back into the chair as he spun it around, now facing him.

"You're doing this for a good cause. I have a little something for you."

"If you're joking with me, I'll leave." I threatened and he looked amused.

"What if I told you your family is off the hook?"

I sat and stared, surprised and suspicious.

"Ok, now you're really messing with me." I said.

"Well, they are. Will you still leave knowing they're safe?"

"I don't have a choice."

"And why is that?" He asked and I watched his jaw clench.

"Because you have a big job for me. The biggest game yet. If I go, it falls apart and we both know you can't have that." I smiled and he brought in a deep breath, trying to calm the anger inside him.

"Then you're up for it?" he asked.

"Yes." I said.

"Jim." He said, extending his hand for a shake.

"Alex." I said, shaking it lightly. "Now, what's the next job, Jim?"


	9. Chapter 9

I stood outside, alone in the cold. The final plan was terrifying.

Just outside St. Bart's Hospital, I held the phone to my ear, listening to it ring, willing him to pick up. I slowly recited the script Jim had given me when he answered.

"Hello?" Sherlock asked, and I could hear John and maybe Molly talking in the background.

I exhaled before I began. "Dear Jim."

"Alex? Where are you?" he asked, but I continued.

"If he doesn't find me, will you fix it, please?" I said, feeling some tears fall down my cheeks.

"Keep talking. John, come on!" I heard him picking up speed, running. I also heard John calling in the background.

"He must not care enough to help me." I felt myself trembling.

"Stay where you are! I'm coming to get you!" I heard him breathing hard through the phone.

"Get rid of me, Jim. Fix it for me." I said, giving way to some small sobs.

"No. No! John,we're losing her! We're almost there, Alex! Just hang on!"

"Unless he makes it on time, tell my family I'm sorry, Jim." Tears now completely wet my cheeks and I bowed my head to try and compose myself.

I watched the doors fly open, jumping at the loud noise. Looking up, I saw Sherlock and John spot me and run.

"Stop!" I yelled through the phone. They did so and stared at me.

"Dear Alex." I heard Jim speak through the phone, and I knew Sherlock heard him as well by the shocked look on his face.

"I would love to fix it for you!" he exclaimed as John tried looking around for him, Sherlock's eyes never left mine. "Although it looks like they came on time! Why not give them a show?"

To my right, I heard him snap his fingers and I closed the phone, Sherlock mirrored my movements.

3 men with guns revealed themselves, all pointed at my head. I swallowed as more tears fell down my face. Jim walked closer to me, that wicked smile on his face.

"And what a marvelous show this will be!" Jim hollered, now standing a few feet away from me.

"You don't need her, Moriarty." Sherlock said.

"Oh, but I do. To get to the one and only Sherlock! AND THE ONLY WAY TO DO THAT IS TO THREATEN HER LIFE!" Jim screamed. I inhaled and steadied my breathing, not daring to wipe my cheeks. "And there's a twist, special for you!"

"I don't want to play your games. They're meaningless." Sherlock said.

"As meaningless as me!" I yelled and Jim walked towards me, placing his hand on my shoulder. A new wave of fear and tears ran down my cheeks as he pulled out a red wire, the button on the end in his fingers.

John and Sherlock stiffened, staring at his hand, thumb ready to push. My coat was to stay closed so the actual bombs strapped to me were left to the imagination.

I swallowed as Jim spoke. "Aww, Sherlock, you made her cry. But this twist was meant for you!"

Nobody spoke.

"Funny how one little wire can lead to so many possibilities." Jim hissed.

"Brilliant." Sherlock said.

"Isn't it?" Jim said. "Show them the reality, dear."

Moving slowly, I unbuttoned the top of my jacket, exposing the top of the bombs. I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breathing to steady myself.

Sherlock and John took some steps forward when I saw the red lights of the guns behind me on their chests. I signaled with my eyes to Sherlock, who stopped himself and John, realizing their position.

Jim smiled. "Shall I prove my point? The real danger that I intend to create? The real pain I can inflict?"

"Please don't! She doesn't deserve this!" John cracked, which set me off again in a fit of tears.

"TOO LATE!" Jim screamed, slightly hysterical. ""IT'S ALWAYS TOO LATE!"

I couldn't comprehend what was happening until I saw his thumb press the button, and I closed my eyes, waiting for my imminent death. I heard John scream, but nothing happened.

Jim stood there, staring at the button in his hand with a look in his eyes that I can't recognize. "Oops!" he hollered, dropping the wire so it sagged on my shoulder. "Must be busted." He said, more to me than them. He winked at me before returning his attention to Sherlock again.

"Sorry boys, the shows OVER!" he screamed, taking my wrist and guiding me to the car. He jerked open the door and sat me in the passenger seat, running around to the driver's side and taking off. Looking in the rearview mirror, I saw Sherlock and John running after us, but we lost them.

I sighed, trying to rein it all in. It was too much to fathom all at once.

Jim didn't speak to me for the rest of the ride home, and I didn't press him on it.

He would get it from me when we were in the privacy of my room.


	10. Chapter 10

Walking into the building, I was briskly walking to my door with Jim close behind. I burst through the door, trying to cling to the shred of composure I had left. When I heard the door clock closed, I listened as Jim's footfalls came closer. I whirled on him and my hand flew through the air, striking his face hard with a clapping sound.

I felt my breaths come in shaky spurts as I collapsed in on myself, finally endured all I can for one day. My hand stung and it trembled. I felt new tears stinging my eyes as shame and guilt savagely bit at me, relentless.

Jim said nothing, but he unbuttoned my jacket, quietly circling me to shrug it off my shoulders, taking the bombs with it. He held my arms, guiding me to the couch as we lowered to sit together.

I took time to take in his appearance. A nice, deep blue Westwood suit, black shoes and tie. He had a small strand of hair floating just above his forehead. His eyes almost appeared black, but I couldn't tell of I saw a flicker of compassion, but I pushed it away.

"What the hell was that!" I said, but he didn't speak up. "I thought I was going to die! Right in front of Sherlock and John!" I knew them like family relations, they were brotherly figures to me.

He still didn't speak. He knew I needed to yell.

"Do you realize I didn't get to say goodbye to my family! What kind of hell did you want to put them through! I didn't want my life to be over! I have so much time left and you almost ruined it!" I yelled, sagging back into the couch to catch my breath, staring at my stinging hand.

"You have every right to be angry with me. I'm sorry." He said as he gently took my hand in his and I met his gaze, again feeling something change inside me, "I should have told you this earlier."

"What?" I asked quietly.

"The bomb was fake. The wire wasn't connected to any part of the bomb."

I said nothing but became aware of the tears on my cheeks and also the dwindling space between us.

Jim brought his hands to my face, gently wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "I didn't mean to make you cry so much. I promise I won't do it again."

I gave him a sheepish smile and closed my eyes at the feel of his warm hands on my skin. I brought a hand and wrapped my fingers around his wrist, gently holding him close.

"I would never hurt you. You need to know that." He whispered and I felt his breath on my face.

"I believe you." I whispered. I brought my other hand up and tried to tuck the loose strand of hair with the res from his forehead. Once it was where it belonged, my hand lightly fell down the side of his face, tracing his features.

"Have I ever told you how hypnotizing your eyes are?" He asked. This was barely audible considering there was now not even an inch of space between us. He smiled faintly and I traced his lips with my finger softly.

"Nobody's ever told me that." I breathed.

His lips met mine, gentle and careful as ever. It felt good, nice and smooth, warm. A little tentative, but I lost myself in the moment regardless. His hands slid to my jaw and I placed my hands on his shoulders.

We separated, but met again, in a simple yet tender kiss.

It lasted a few, precious seconds before we separated. Both smiling, he ran a hand through my hair before standing, reluctantly releasing my hand and walking to the door.

"Would you like to visit the museum tomorrow night?" he asked, leaning on the door frame.

"Absolutely." I said, and he turned to walk out, closing the door gently behind him.

I sat on the couch, grinning like a giddy high school girl having her biggest wish granted.

There was one complication.

I couldn't tell if I wanted more.

Wait a minute, what am I doing?


	11. Chapter 11

Jim and I walked hand in hand at the museum, gazing at the art on display. I couldn't seem to burst out of my thoughts, though.

What the hell was I doing?

How can I love a man who almost killed me? fake bomb or no, it was still terrifying.

I looked to Jim, who was now looking at a painting of a field full of poppies. He wore a black suit, white shirt and black dress shoes. Carefully, he chewed a piece of gum.

I was wearing a deep grey suit, a blue button down shirt underneath. My hair was straight and it hung around my shoulders.

I took one look at our hands together and glazed back into my mind.

How could this happen? It's not rational, probable or possible. This isn't ethical, let alone reasonable. This is a disgrace. I feel like I've shamed my family by falling in love with a consulting criminal, who put their lives at risk for me to play is games. It's despicable.

Have I become hollow? Is this the only thrill that I fill my life with?

Is this how low I've really come?

Yet, when I look at him, I feel happy. I feel like I belong, really. It's a happiness that I've never really felt before, but it seems to be on the brink of love.

We walk to another painting.

Is he sincere about what he said last night? Will he not hurt me? Most likely scare me out of my wits again, but he must be. Why would he tell me otherwise?

Of course I know why, to lure me into a false sense of security.

To reel me in until the perfect moment to strike.

He wouldn't, would he?

I shake my head violently, temporarily forgetting he is standing right beside me.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, turning to me.

I can't find the correct words. Instead, he squeezes my hand in his with a small smile.

"I meant everything I said, Alex. I promise I won't hurt you."

I looked into his eyes and smiled. He leaned in slowly and gently met my lips. I don't normally perform public displays of affection, but it felt right.

I felt safe in his arms.

When we drifted apart, I felt two strong hands on my arms as I was wrenched away from Jim.

"Let go!" I said, trying to squirm, but they linked their arms through mine, making it impossible to move. I did get a glimpse though.

It was two men.

Sherlock on my left, John on my right.

"Release me! Let go! John, what's happening?" I said as we walked out the doors and into the crowded street to the cab waiting by the curb.

Sherlock sat in first, then me followed by John.

"What is going on here?" I asked as the cab took off. I turned to gaze out the back window, watching Jim standing, staring. "Answer me, damn it!"

"All will be explained at the flat." John said, Sherlock gazed out the window.

"No, I want answers now!"

They didn't respond, so I tried to calm down.

I hadn't realized how much of an inferno I had become.

After a few minutes of silence, we pulled up to 221b.

Stepping out of the cab, Mrs. Hudson was already holding the door open. John led me up the stairs while Sherlock followed behind, silent.

I whirled around to face John once I stood in the middle of the flat.

"What the hell is this?" I asked as Sherlock took is coat and scarf off.

"You already know." Sherlock said.

"Then explain, Sherlock. I'm afraid I don't know for once!" I yelled.

"Can't you see what's happening? What he's done to you!" Sherlock said, walking closer to me.

I stood my ground. "There's nothing wrong with it."

"Everything's wrong with it!" Sherlock yelled.

"It's human nature!"

"It's corruption! He's burning your mind into believing!"

"I love him, Sherlock! Nothing you say will change my mind!" I hollered.

"It's Stockholm syndrome! It's not real, relevant or practical!" He was standing a few inches away now, boring into me with those blue eyes.

"You're wrong."

"Now it's denial. Brilliant how the mind blocks the truth so quickly. Deceiving itself from the second the truth is revealed. It's amazing."

"What is?" I asked.

"You're failure to see reason. Yet again it was always something you were weak with under the right circumstances." Sherlock leaned away from me and exhaled. "I need some, John. Get me some."

"No, you've come so far, don't give up now." John said.

Sherlock hesitated. "Please."

John chuckled.

"Damn it, John! Where did you hide them! Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock ran through the apartment, flinging papers and various objects everywhere in a frantic frenzy.

"Ignore him, Mrs. Hudson. He's not right in the head!" I said, watching Sherlock hunt for his stash.

"Besides, Sherlock, I wasn't the last one to hide them." John said and I seized the opportunity.

Sherlock spun around quickly and stopped, I had the harpoon in my hands pointed at him. "It was you." Sherlock said.

"Why wouldn't it be me?"

"Hand them over." He said.

"I need the magic word." I said and I heard John chuckle.

"Please."

"Nope." I said and he exhaled. "You're not getting them that easily."

"You want me to take you back."

"Correct."

"No." he said.

"Yes."

"No." he tried again and I could hear John stifling laughter.

"If you don't take me back, you will never find your precious stash."

I still had the harpoon at the ready when I knew he would start guessing any second.

"Skull."

"No."

"Kitchen."

"No."

"John's room."

"No."

"Mrs. Hudson's room."

"Sherlock, you have to play my game to win the prize."

I watched his jaw clench. "John, tackle her."

"What? No." John said, laughter trickling out. I smiled.

"I'm surprised, Sherlock. You would give up your stash to keep me here?"

"I'm protecting you."

"That's not how I see it." I said.

"Is there any way out of this?"

"We would both know that by now, Sherlock.

I looked at Sherlock, who exchanged glances with John. We all slowly turned towards the door and saw Jim leaning against the frame, an amused smile on his face.

"Hello, darling." Jim said in a high voice, gently waving some fingers at me.


	12. Chapter 12

I gave Jim a faint smile before returning to gaze at Sherlock, who's attention was trained on Moriarty. John was switching between Jim and I.

"I believe we need to address something, thieves." Jim said, still leaning on the door frame.

"We're no such thing." John said.

"I believe that's the correct definition. You've taken a precious item from me against my will. I want it back." Jim said, keeping his voice surprisingly level.

"Conservation." Sherlock said.

Moriarty cocked his head to the right, biting his lip. "Misappropriate."

"Good choice, Jim." I said.

"Finally! Someone understands!" Jim exclaimed as I took a few steps away from Sherlock, the harpoon still tight in my hands.

In the midst of our conversation, Mrs. Hudson walked from the kitchen, holding a tray of hot tea, setting it on the table. "Oh, Alex, you put that down before you hurt yourself."

"Mrs. Hudson, I have the means to use this in a convenient situation to provide myself with a mode of protection." I said, looking at her.

"I don't care if you think you need it. I will not have violence with that piece of rubbish in my building. Now put it down."

I sighed and rested it against a bookshelf. She nodded and walked back into the kitchen.

"Now, boys, your resistance." Jim said.

"Admonishment. Rather to dissuade." Sherlock said.

"Why would I need your frivolous words?" I asked, or rather hissed. I was now slowly making my way to the door, slow, small steps at a time.

"He's offering his help." John said.

"I understand his plea, John." I said. "Nothing but a childish petition."

"You won't accept anything I say?" Sherlock asked.

"I have no reason to." I said, feeling my growing impatience.

"Juvenile." Sherlock said.

"I can manage my life just fine!" I said.

Sherlock turned to Jim, who was grinning.

"Deficiency." Sherlock said.

Jim laughed, the cold tune filling the room. "What a fraudulent specimen you are, Sherlock."

"What is Alex to you?" Sherlock asked.

I turned to Sherlock, then quickly shifting my gaze to Jim. I looked at John, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Wait, why is this all about me?" I asked.

Jim spoke calmly. "Commendable, honorable, reputable and valuable." I could feel his hand on the small of my back, and I tried to bite back a smile.

"You're fond of each other?" Sherlock asked.

"No shit, Sherlock." John and I spoke at once.

"You won't stay, then?" Sherlock asked. I knew he already knows the answer.

"No, I won't. Since you think I live my life like a child, then I obviously need to prove myself to you. Let's go, Jim."

Without another word, I took Jim's hand, walked down the stairs and to the car. Once we got in, the driver sped off to home, Or the building I called home.


	13. Chapter 13

That night, I sat on the computer, going over everything that transpired in 221b. The part that got me was how quickly the argument switched to me.

Sighing, I stood and listened. The building was quiet and I stepped into the dark hallway, walking towards Jim's room. I probably should talk to him.

I stopped at his door and knocked. When nobody answered, I figured that he must be at his other place, his time to study silently, alone and undisturbed.

Walking through the door, I stepped to his desk. Upon a glance, I noticed there was a new file holder on the corner. Curious, I picked it up and looked through it. All the names looked familiar, they belonged to my family. Mom, dad, aunt, uncle. Everyone was here.

Now furious, I pulled out mom's file. Pictures, medical, dental, therapy records, everything was there. I yanked dad's file and tore through the contents. It was all here. Thumbing through the other files, I saw the name of my family doctor.

"What?" I muttered to myself.

Removing the file, I found records of him, his wife and children, family and photographs. I also found photocopies of letters. I read them and gasped at the contents.

"Blackmail." I said.

"Snooping again?" I jumped at the sound of his voice behind me, a moody tone to it already.

"You should learn to lock doors." I said, turning to face him. "Why did you blackmail our doctor?" I asked, holding a copy of the letter up to him.

"Everyone has their pressure point, dear. A little push and you get what you want." Jim said, a deep, dark look in his eyes.

"You obviously want control. You don't need it, that's what you don't see. I won't leave, why don't you listen to me?" I asked, walking towards him.

"Everyone tires of things. You've clearly getting tired of me because you're SNOOPING!" He yelled. "It's so ORDINARY!"

"I guess it's good I'm ordinary! You're CRAZY!" I screamed.

Without warning, his hand flew back behind him. I closed my eyes and brought my hands up to protect myself, shrinking away from him.

When nothing happened, I tentatively opened my eyes and gazed at his brown ones. He looked upset, but he didn't say anything. Seizing this opportunity, I jogged out the door and into my room to retrieve my phone. I got my coat and shoes on and ran down to the doors, escaping this place.

Once I was outside, I walked down the street. I dialed John's number and waited while it rang.

"Hello?" John asked.

"Hey, it's me." I said.

"Alex, are you ok?" He asked.

"I need a place to stay." I said, turning to cross the street.

"Of course, come here, I'll be waiting outside."

"Ok. Thanks, John. I've made some stupid mistakes lately. It's nice to have somewhere to land." I said.

"Be safe. See you soon." He hung up. I ran through the streets, trying to keep warm and get there faster. I was also trying to run away from the horrible image of what almost happened.


	14. Chapter 14

"Thanks for letting me stay." I said as Sherlock and John went about their business in the flat.

"You're always welcome here, Alex." John said and I smiled when the door rang.

"One ring." John said.

"Client." They said at the same time as I stood back in the corner by the bookshelf, absentmindedly looking out the window.

A few moments later, Sherlock turned off the documentary about a top secret base, Baskerville in Dartmor.

"What did you see?" Sherlock asked.

Henry looked surprised. "I was just about to say."

"In a TV interview. I prefer to do my own editing." Sherlock said.

I stood, observing yet spacing as they spoke.

What happened with Jim? He should know I didn't mean it, right?

I sighed in spite of myself. What have I gotten myself into this time? Am I dependent on him?

Ludicrous.

I don't need him. It doesn't matter if I miss him all the time or I feel lost when I don't hear his voice.

How can this infatuation change me?

"Alex."

I jumped to attention at my name. John was watching me. "Yes?" I answered, seeing as Sherlock was watching me as well but Henry was gone.

"We're leaving for Dartmor in the morning. Do you need to pack some of the possessions you house here?" John asked as I straightened my back.

"Sure, I'll do that now. Excuse me." I said as I walked down the stairs and met Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh, are you alright dear? You're white as a sheet." She asked and I took in a deep breath, smiling.

"I'm fine. Where have you kept my clothes?" I asked.

"In my room, dear. Follow me." She said, turning around and walking down the hall to her room. "In the trunk. A suitcase is in the closet if you need it."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." I said, exchanging a smile with her before she walked away.

I tried to ignore these feelings for him hitting me, but I couldn't seem to shove them away as I opened the trunk, then moved to the closet and took a small, black suitcase.

As I folded my clothes into the case, I muttered to myself.

"This isn't natural. I'm safe here, yet I feel like I'm suffocating. Why won't this flame inside me extinguish? Is he testing me? But why would he? He has nothing to gain, nothing to prove."

"Alex?"

I jumped as my suitcase closed on my fingers. I opened it again as I looked at the door. John stood there, looking concerned. "Are you sure you're alright?" He asked, slowly creeping into the room.

"How long have you been standing there?" I asked, looking back into the case, counting my clothes as I felt satisfied.

"Long enough." John now knelt beside me as I closed the case. He placed a hand on my shoulder and I met his gaze. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

"I don't know what to do." I said quietly.

"You're safe here."

"Yes, I know that. I'm at war with myself. Something I've never felt before." I said.

"I know it's hard sometimes, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. Alright?" John asked, smiling at me. "I'm here to help, like families do."

"Thanks John." I said as we both stood and walked back to the flat, the suitcase in my hand.


	15. Chapter 15

We had arrived at Baskerville this morning and we had already taken a tour of it. A minor problem arose when we were stopped by some military personnel. Luckily, an older worker helped us out and we got in once again to look around.

John and I walked together in the bright white corridors. We reached a door and scanned our cards. It opened, revealing a wall with two doors on each end.

"You take that one, I take this one?" John asked.

"Sure."

"Got the card?"

"Yeah." I said, scanning it as the door clicked open. "Good luck."

"You too." He said as we both separated.

I walked into the big, bright lab and watched the workers slowly leaving the room. Walking straight towards a small, separated section. I scanned the card and opened the door, ignoring the warning sign on the door.

The small lab appeared to be deserted, nobody has disturbed anything. I noticed some of the vials used to have some form of liquid in them, the lights have been freshly changed yet it stank of monkey.

Testing, yet it seems sterile enough that it hasn't been touched in months.

I turned to some plumbing on the wall, it leaked some sort of fog, maybe a chemical, but it has to be something harmless. One sniff and it was water vapor.

Exhaling, I walked to the door, opened it and exited the small space. They have dimmed the lights since I went in.

Suddenly, a giant, white light turned on in front of me. Jumping to cover my eyes, I felt my ears ringing and I tried to bring focus back to the world around me.

Then the alarm blared in my ears.

Cringing and covering my ears, I tried to stumble towards the nearest exit, all of a sudden feeling a weakness in my knees. Pushing myself forward, I covered one ear and took my card in my hand, swiping it in the door.

When the screen shown "ASCESS DENIED", a memory flashed before my eyes. Again, I tried, but it said the same thing. Once more with no improvement.

"No, no." I said as all the lights turned off, along with the alarm. I turned and tried to steady my quickening heartbeat. "Hello?"

I walked away from the door as memories again flew into my eyes. Shaking my head, I ran to the other exit, swiping my card, again denied.

I felt myself beginning to hyperventilate as I felt lost.

"No, no, not here." I said, looking around at all the boxes, tubes, dead lights, needles, tables, lab coats, no windows.

The memory came again. All those tubes snaking through him, eyes closed, he was white as the sheets covering him. His heartbeat was steady, but I could feel it, something was wrong.

All the doctors had accused me of it. My family too.

The only person who listened was Sherlock.

"It wasn't my fault." I said, stumbling through the lab.

Running into one of the tables, I took some test tubes in my hands and threw them across the room, screaming as I did so.

"I didn't do it! It wasn't me!" I screamed, taking some tubes, ripping them from their sockets.

"Let me go home, please!" I hollered, running to the door, pounding on it with my fists, feeling the tears falling down my cheeks.

I had opened the door to the corridor when I heard the pounding. Running to the second door, I scanned the card and shoved through the door. I stopped and listened. The pounding ceased, but the screaming hadn't.

Scanning my card on the final door, I threw it open and walked inside, listening.

Sobbing, gasping.

"Alex?" I asked, walking into the lab. I was shocked at what I found. She was on the floor, kneeling with her head in her hands, rocking back and forth, trying to catch her breath.

"Alex!" I exclaimed, walking closer. She listed her eyes to me, but exploded.

"I didn't do this! You have to believe me!" She screamed, taking my blazer into her fists, she hollered. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Oh. Alex, look at me!" I said, taking her face in my hands, locking our eyes. "Calm down!" I said, lowering my voice. "Now, tell me my name."

She caught her breath slowly while I wiped away some tears. "You're name?" She whispered.

"Yes, tell me my name." I nodded, giving her a smile.

"Jim." She said.

I nodded. "Good. What do I mean to you?"

"I," She said. "I, love you."

I nodded and took Alex into my arms. "That's correct. Me too." I said as she slowly released her fear and calmed down gradually.


	16. Chapter 16

I relaxed in Jim's arms, my breathing and heartbeat slowing to normal.

"Thank you." I said, leaning away from him so I could see his face. "Wait, how did you get here?"

"You already know." He said, smirking at me.

"Of course, I was testing you."

"Were you." He breathed and I stepped away from him, trying to again fight back my feelings for him. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"You should know, you know everything about me. Even how to cure my worst fears, as you've demonstrated. Are you here to impress me, Jim?"

"It's working, Alex. Don't deny the truth. It's right before your eyes." Jim said.

"The suit is new, a color of light grey, which you know I like. Your shoes are what I prefer and no tie, a small casual move. Your palms are dry yet your neck is hot, indicating a spike in your heartbeat, perhaps a shot of adrenaline. You're breathing faster, shifting from foot to foot, meaning your preparing for something. The way you're watching me shows something in your face, some sort of emotion which is quite genuine."

"Anything else?" He asked.

"What do you want?"

"I came to apologize."

I didn't speak, I watched instead.

"They are off the hook. Completely." He was now a little closer to me.

"Why should I believe you?"

"My suppliers are gone. No more pills. No dates, no files."

"No spies." I countered.

"Completely clean. They're all free."

"Convince me." I said.

He took out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me. I took it, opening it and gazing at my various relatives' handwriting. They all asked about how I'm doing and all sharing their excitement about a cruise they are to leave on this coming weekend.

"Call them if you don't believe me. Then you should have enough proof to suit yourself." He handed me his cell phone, but I didn't take it from his outstretched hand.

"Why would I need to do that?" I asked.

"Because you're giving me the look."

"What look?"

"One you have reserved special for me." He said, still walking closer.

"Tell me what the look consists of." I stood, smiled and waited.

"You make everything too easy. You display everything on your sleeve. That look is a demonstration of your emotions, actions and intentions. Your mind is the only thing I can't hack, my dear."

"Then you begin your game. The one I know all too well."

"Enlighten me." He said.

"Nothing is simple but complex, like a code. Yet I have no trouble reading you like an open book. The way you pace indicates a fierce need for something. The action of clasping your hands together tells me your waiting for the perfect moment to reveal the winning play. The pattern in which your eyes sweep over me shows you're drastic yet collected need for something. Every breath you take betrays you, Jim."

"Along with every move you make." Jim smiled in a sing song tone as he closed the distance between us.

"Don't mock me, Jim. You know the consequences."

"I'm not mocking, Alex." I felt his breath on my face now.

"What are you doing?"

"Agreeing. A very powerful acknowledgment, don't you think?"

"Undoubtedly." I breathed as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, smiling so close to me.

I didn't dare move. And he knew it by the smile on his lips when they met mine. His hands held my face to his, resting gently on my jaw while my hands wrapped around his waist.

Pulling each other in, his kissing intensified and I stood on my toes as he walked me backwards, softly stopping by the table hitting my back as his hands slid to my neck and into my hair.

I slid my hands under his blazer, feeling the warm, white button up under my fingers as his hands held the nape of my neck. He slowly pressed his body to mine as we drank each other in.

The kisses were deep, long and slow. Their control was what made them intense, needy. He unzipped my jacket and ran his hands down my shoulders, letting the jacket hang off my arms as we didn't really explore with our hands, but our minds.

I ran my hands from his back to his chest, slowly running up his neck and to his hair as I released a small noise. I felt his smile on my lips while his hands slunk around my waist.

It was then that I heard the door open and John cleared his throat, rather loudly.

I broke from Jim's lips and sighed, staring into his dark, brown eyes. Shrugging my jacket back on, I smiled and kissed Jim's cheek.

"To be continued." He said quietly. I smiled and walked towards John, waving one last goodbye before John walked me out of the lab. Once we reached the hallway, Sherlock joined our walk back to the pub we stayed at.

"What was all that about?" John asked.

"My rescue, that's what." I snipped back.

We walked to our separate rooms and didn't speak for the rest of the night.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

I was at the pub with Lestrade when his cell phone rang.

"Hello?" He asked. "Ok, I'll bring her." he hung up and put the gun holster over his shoulders before putting his jacket on. "You are coming with me. Sherlock wants us at the hollow."

"Is everything alright?" I asked as we began to walk to the Rover.

"Henry's got a gun, they want you on the hill at the peak of the hollow." He said as we sat in the Rover, he started it. I pulled out two flashlights from the glove compartment.

As we pulled out and headed towards the hollow, I couldn't stop thinking about Jim. I watched the dark landscape move by the car as we watched neared our destination.

"Are you alright?" Lestrade asked.

"Yeah, just thinking." I said, looking at his worried face with a smile.

"Are you nervous about all the guns?"

"No. I have no reason to." I said as he nodded and returned his eyes to the road. "What about you?"

"Oh, it's all in days' work." He said, sighing as we took a right turn onto a bumpy road.

He seemed a little tense, but I didn't want to push it. In the end, my curiosity won the fight.

When he stopped the Rover at the outskirts of the hollow, I handed him a flashlight as we got out, beginning our walk, the only light from our small beacons in hand.

"How are the kids?" I asked.

I heard him sigh heavily before answering. "As good as can be expected, since they stay with her. I get calls every once in a while, too."

I only nodded in the dark as we proceeded to our walk in silence. I shouldn't be pushing it. Again my mind drifted back to Jim. Someone so capable turned out to be someone lovable, someone I really enjoy spending my time with.

And that someone I'm secretly wishing could take me away again, which brought a smile to my face, but I quickly hid it as Lestrade and I came to our destination.

"So, you'll be standing up here, keeping an eye on things. I'll head down." He began walking down the dirt slope before abruptly turning back towards me. "Are you sure you'll be alright up here?"

"I'll be fine. I can always kick the shit our of someone if they manage to sneak up on me."

He gave me a big smile before he started down the hill again. I looked down and saw Henry stumbling onto the scene with a gun in his hand.

"Henry!" I hollered when Sherlock hollered shortly after.

"No, Henry! No!" Sherlock hollered.

"Get away from me!" Henry screamed and I could feel the fear in his voice as the fog slowly moved in.

"Easy, Henry." John said.

"I know what I am, I know what I tried to do!" Henry hollered.

I noticed the fog becoming thinker and I tried to see through it as it rose, but I failed. Something didn't feel right, but I couldn't shake the feeling as to what it was that was wrong.

"It wasn't a monster, a man." I head Sherlock say, as I covered my nose, feeling a sneeze coming on.

That's when I heard it.

To my left, I heard the loud growling. I could feel the panic rising in me as I moved the flashlight beam towards it. Standing before me was a gigantic wolf-like dog creature. It's eyes glowed red and it drooled as it walked towards me, stalking its prey.

I walked back, away from the ledge slowly, gaping at the monster. I couldn't scream. It kept its eyes on me while it walked to the ledge, hearing Henry scream drawing its attention.

As I walked backwards into the trees, someone placed their hands on my arms. I spun around quickly as I felt my heart beginning to race. The man who now faced me had a horribly scarred face, one brown eye the other blue, and he had a manic smile on his lips.

I gasped and tried to pull away, but he pulled me deeper into the trees. Closing my eyes, I heard someone below hollering, "The fog!"

Making use of this knowledge, I opened my eyes and saw Jim staring back at me.

"Ready to go?" He asked, kissing my forehead.

"God yes." I sighed as he took my hand and we walked through the woods with my flashlight lighting the way.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

It had been a few days since I had returned with Jim to the building I call home. When he saved me in the hollow, I hadn't phoned Sherlock or John, but I would when the time came.

That time, though, was unknown to me.

I sat on my couch when I started thinking Jim hadn't returned since Monday. These ventures shouldn't worry me, they're practically routine with the world's only consulting criminal out to get the only consulting detective. John should be unharmed, although that's not completely known. John offers no gain to Jim, I'm his main aid and personal interest.

Opening the laptop next to me, I opened my Yahoo homepage. It was all over the news. Or, should I say all I saw was Jim's sarcastic yet charming smile on every article.

Sherlock is the only expert witness.

The first court date is today.

As if on cue, someone knocked on my door.

"Yes?"

"Alex, we need to escort you to the courthouse." A big bodyguard said.

"Alright, let me get ready."

"Hurry."

I got up and closed the door, dressed in a navy blue suit, straightened my hair, stepped into my black wedges and ran out the door. A cab was already waiting.

Once we pulled up to the courthouse, there were reporters everywhere. Only then did I notice the circle of bodyguards outside the cab door.

Like that won't attract unwanted attention.

Sighing heavily to myself, I opened the cab door and stepped out into the cool morning air, hearing some of the black suited men talking into earpieces.

I noticed also the cameras started to move this way. I decided to avoid that altogether.

The only way to do that was do this.

I quickly pushed through the many guards, walking up the steps away from the pack of them, while one walked beside me, furiously talking into the headpiece.

My bold move set them off, and I smiled to myself about it.

The one guard stayed beside me until I got into the courthouse and to the door of the room the trial was in.

"Please stay out here. I don't need to be followed."

He stared at me before opening the door, holding it open as I walked in. He nodded and walked away. I noticed John right away.

Probably not a good idea to sit next to him, considering my escape from the Hollow. I walked to the same row but headed in the opposite direction. Taking my seat, he looked up I ignored him. I exhaled and crossed my legs as I watched a few guards escorting Jim to the stand. He turned to a female guard and they resumed in some type of close contact. I shook my head when she put a piece of gum in his mouth while the jury filed in.

It now hit me that I didn't actually know what Jim was being accused of. I scoffed at myself when I noticed Sherlock take the stand.

As he was questioned, I took notice of the jury. I found that one was a librarian, there were 2 teachers, 2 were having an affair with each other and some had crumbs on their coats. I tried to stifle a smile when Sherlock stated the same while I took inventory.

I also noticed something else in the jury.

They all seemed tense, worried, frightened. This struck me as odd, but I kept it to myself. Instead, I shifted my gaze to Jim, who was standing perfectly straight and still, unmoving. By this stance, he seems calm, collected and certain.

I came back to the present when they took Sherlock away. Sighing quietly, I stood when the day in the stuffy courtroom was complete and walked back to the cab, sitting in as it quickly sped away.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, James Moriarty stands accused of the accounts of attempted burglary. I find myself requesting a verdict whole-heartedly. You must find him guilty."

When the judge finished his statement, the jury filed out, along with the small audience. I stood and walked out the door, slowly removing the water bottle from my purse and taking a small drink.

I saw John watching me on a bench when I put my bottle back in my purse. I walked up to him and stood in front of him. "Sherlock at home?"

"Yes, considering he couldn't contain himself last time."

"Can't let it happen again." I said. I noticed something in John's face at that moment. "Are you alright?"

He twiddled his thumbs. "What do you see?"

I sat next to him. "I see someone who is worried, but not for yours or my sakes."

"Who's sake is that?" He asked, a little irritation in his voice.

"For his sake." I said quietly and his eyes shot to mine.

"What proof do you possibly have?" He asked.

"Your eyes are tired, the glow is gone. You're fidgeting hands indicate your restraining yourself from calling him until after the verdict is announced, this also gives you a slight butterfly sensation in your stomach along with a dry mouth and cool body temperature. You're a little grumpy from the last few nights you spent wide awake, listening for anything wrong with Sherlock. This pattern breaks, however, when you become so exhausted that nothing can keep your shaking body awake any longer."

He let out a breathy chuckle. "Not even coffee."

I smiled and took one of his clammy hands in mine. He slowly turned his head so his shaky eyes met mine.

"Everything's going to be alright." I rubbed my thumbs over his hands.

"Will you come back to us tonight? Just like old times?"

I nodded and leaned in to hug him tight. He exhaled over my shoulder and I could feel his tension escaping, but just a little though.

When we released I noticed the bodyguard standing by the door. I stood and walked to him, saying. "I'm going with John when this is over."

He only nodded and walked away, speaking into his earpiece.

I stood in front of John when a crowd of people quickly filed into the courtroom. Helping John stand, we walked in and sat together, watching the jury file into the silent room.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" The judge asked.

Jim turned around, found my eyes and gave me a small wink before turning forward again.

"Not guilty." The juror said, sitting back down.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Sherlock had been sucked into a harrowing case when he stood in the flat, removing his jacket and scarf and sat at the laptop. I walked in with a small cup of tea and sat it down next to him, taking my own seat in an armchair, waiting patiently for nothing in particular when John came in and stood at the window.

I watched as Sherlock opened the wifi connection screen when Ms. Hudson came in.

"Oh, Sherlock." She said, a worried look on her face as Lestrade walked in behind her.

Sherlock remained in his chair but I stood, knowing something didn't smell right.

"Sherlock, your under arrest." Lestrade said.

I walked beside Sherlock, making sure Lestrade met my gaze. "He's done nothing wrong."

"Alex." Sherlock said, or rather stated, but I didn't back down.

"After all these years working with him, you choose this time. This is the perfect time because Jim is on the rise, this is the time that things can unravel perfectly in your case, but I'm telling you, it's false."

"Alex." Lestrade said, but I still continued.

"You have nothing, no physical evidence, no circumstantial evidence, no proof. I will not let you take him to jail for a false crime."

"It's orders." Lestrade said.

"Yes, I can see where the pressure came from. A certain couple hiding right under your nose. They use their badges to hand over the wrong person that they despise and they know it. It's incredible to see such smart, strong man like you falling for their stupid acts of vengeance."

Lestrade licked his lips, swallowed and clenched his jaw, looking everywhere but at me. Perfect sign of a guilty man. John and Sherlock said nothing, the shock of my words slowly traveling through the room.

Lestrade sighed, turned to the door and left.

I relaxed and sat on the arm of the chair, watching John gaze out the window and Sherlock returned to the computer screen.

"Someone's watching." Sherlock said, hopping on the chair, inspecting the bookshelves before jumping down and looking at the mantle before getting back on the chair.

"They're going to come back." John warned.

"Of course they will." Sherlock muttered as he slowly turned and stepped off the chair, holding the small camera between his index and thumb fingers.

"I have a feeling Anderson and that damn woman won't let him off the hook that easily." I scoffed.

The rest of the wait for the sirens was relatively short.

To my anger, Sherlock let them cuff him and take him out the door. I was worried about John when the chief detective came in and talked down to him. Needless to say, I had to stifle a smiled when John's fist collided with his nose before he was hauled outside with Sherlock.

"Damn that custard." John said, along with a wink when he walked past me and out the door.

Showtime.

Taking a gulp of my tea, I opened the window and grabbed the harpoon.

Standing beside the open window, harpoon in hand, I waited until John was pushed up against the police cruiser. I stuck my hands out the window, the point of the harpoon facing down while I stuck my torso out the window, keeping quiet so nobody looked up.

The chief walked out towards the horde, holding bloody tissues to his nose. Smiling, I took aim, raising the harpoon slightly before I shot it down hard. I watched it as it flew down and stuck into the pavement right in front of the chief, who let out a scream like a 10 year old girl before falling on his backside.

From the window, I head the earpieces go into a screeching high note. That was when I ran down the stairs and out the door.

Sherlock had a gun in his hand, now pointed at John's head. "I have a hostage!"

"Hostage, perfect." John said before they ran off in the opposite direction.

That was when I felt my muscles begin to relax, along with my droopy eyelids. The air entered my lungs slowly and it felt like someone was sitting on my chest with the effort it took to breathe.

Damn that tea, I thought, when the bodyguard from the courthouse came beside me, linking arms and walking me to a black car, the door already open, engine running.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

I sat in Jim's room, patiently waiting for Jim to return home. Again, he hadn't returned I in a few days, but it worried me.

Getting a little bored, I stood up and walked to his desk, noticing how everything was perfectly organized.

Everything but the paper sticking out of the laptop, that is.

Feeling excited, confused and curious, I opened the laptop and the screen displayed an article on Sherlock titled, "The Reichenbach Hero." I skimmed through the article before I turned to the paper on the keyboard. It was covered in scribbles, most I couldn't make out but a few I could read.

The fall.

Permanent destination

Assassins on 'Friend watch'

Final show!

St. Bart's hospital tonight!

Oh, no, I thought.

Throwing the paper on the ground, I put my converse on with my pea-coat and ran down the hallways, knowing I had to intercept them.

I had to.

Rounding the corner, I was met with 3 massive bodyguards.

The one to my left has 3 weak spots; his left knee, right shoulder and the side of his neck, he held a knife. The one on the right had a gun, I should avoid his left arm and right foot and the man in the middle was easy.

Running towards them, I kneed the middle man in the groin, sending him to his knees, I punched him in the face, knocking him out as the man on my left swung the knife. I caught his wrist, twisting it hard. He dropped the knife, which I caught and slit the skin on the back of his left knee. I kicked his back and he fell on all fours when I stabbed his right shoulder. I tried to pull it out, but it wouldn't budge. Instead, as he began to get up, I karate-chopped his neck, but that did nothing. I pinched him though and he fell to the floor, unconscious. The third man first tried hitting me with the gun, but I kicked his hand, launching the gun in the air. He swung at me with huge fists, but I dodged them and caught the gun, pointing it at him. He brought his foot up, but before it could make contact, I shot it, making him scream. I took another shot at his shoulder and in his knee before I kicked his face, sending him hard against the wall, and his body fell limp to the floor.

Tossing the gun to the ground, I ran though the double doors and on the sidewalk. My thoughts ran twice as fast while I ran through people and traffic like it was nonexistent.

Damn it, Jim, don't do this! You don't have to kill anyone to achieve your goal! Why didn't I talk some sense into him while I had the chance? It wouldn't work, even I should know that. We don't need to burn bridges, we make new ones and forget the past!

As I ran on autopilot, when I spotted Bart's hospital, I made myself run faster, my lungs burned with the effort, but I couldn't give up.

I can't let anyone die.

Not on my damn watch.

I burst through the doors, skidding to a halt but took off up the stairs, two at a time. This will not happen, not if I have anything to say about it.

I could feel my body desperate to stop, but I pushed on. All I could hear was my pounding heart beat and my muscles burned like fire. My throat became hot and scratchy as my lips started to chap.

Two more flights.

Almost there.

My knee gave out on the middle of the staircase, making me gasp and cling to the railing as my knee hit the concrete hard, shooting pain up my entire leg. I took this as a break to begin savagely coughing, but as I tried to pull my body back up, it wouldn't move. Clutching my chest, I tried to catch my breath as tears ran down my cheeks from the violent coughing. I began sucking in air like I never had before while I slowly pulled myself back up, walking up the rest of the stairs. My body said no to running anymore, but I did feel my heart beat slowing to normal when I reached the door to the roof.

Deciding to take a sneaky approach, I opened the door as slowly as I could. Blinking in the bright sunlight, I stepped on the roof and saw Jim, his back to me and Sherlock facing him. I kept my body behind Jim so Sherlock wouldn't see.

Walking slowly, I came up to them, blocking out their conversation. As I stood behind Jim, I stepped out from behind him. Sherlock's eyes widened on my face as I reached out to touch Jim's shoulder.

"Jim?" I asked, but it was replaced with a loud gunshot, I stepped violently out of the way when something warm hit my cheek, followed by Jim's body hitting the cement, then silence.

The only thing piercing that silence was mine and Sherlock's heavy breathing.

I kept my eyes on Sherlock, but they slowly moved to where Jim lay.

"No! No, don't look." Sherlock said, taking my face in his hands, wiping my tears with his thumbs.

"He's…" I said quietly, beginning to shake in his hands. "Please don't hate me…"

He took me in his arms. "I've always loved you, Alex. I'm so sorry."

I swallowed hard as he let go and walked me to the door, shielding my eyes from seeing Jim.

"Go to John. Go down to him now." Sherlock said, slightly pushing me into the stairwell, closing the door hard behind me. As I was enclosed in the darkness, I proceeded to stumble slowly down the stairs. Occasionally I would lean on the rail or the wall, crying to myself, the reality setting in slowly.

When I walked into the hospital, I headed for the doors when a gurney pushed through first.

I did a double take as it flew by.

Those eyes bore into mine, along with the blood flowing over his pale skin and the dark curls plastered to his forehead.

I heard myself let out some sobs when I felt some hands on my arms. I fell to my knees and John followed as we cried together, sobbing and shaking for everyone to see.

A few days later, John, Ms. Hudson and I were in the back of the car heading for the cemetery.

John held my hand. He's practically been glued to me since.

But that's to be expected.

When we parked at the cemetery, we all got out of the car and walked hand in hand to the grave of Sherlock Holmes. Ms. Hudson was on the other side of John, who was in between us.

Standing before the stone, I swallowed back the tears, I couldn't cry, not here. I couldn't cry for Jim, he wasn't buried here.

Stupid as that sounds.

"I'll leave you two alone." I said, squeezing John's hand before walking back to the car.

On my way there, I looked around the grey cemetery and saw something in the shade of a tree. Squinting, I walked a little closer, but not close enough to draw attention from the others.

When I got closer, I could see the faint glow of his blue eyes. Slight incomprehension hit me first as I stared at Sherlock, standing there, staring back at me.

Then I remembered something from the day he was wheeled in front of me. A truly subtle sign that I didn't understand until now.

That fateful day, his eyes moved.

They had watched me until he was taken out of sight.

I smiled to myself and nodded at him. He nodded back. Nervous to linger too long, I looked back at John, who looked like he was having a hard time and I continued to walk back to the car, linking arms with Ms. Hudson, who didn't see anything.

Later that day, I sat in Mycroft's chair, waiting patiently, my hands folded in my lap.

I had been here about half an hour when I heard the flick of the lock. The tap of his shoes and his breathing pattern were unmistakable.

Smiling to myself before masking it, I turned around in his chair, catching him off guard.

"Alex. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked a little sarcastically for my taste.

I leaned on his desk with my elbows, keeping our eyes locked. "I know they're alive. And you're going to help me find them."

THE END


End file.
